Matt Nielson
Aug 31, 2018 · 3 min read

Scene 9

INT. JETHRO’S ROOM — DAY.

Pastoral psychedelic folk softly plays from a vintage record player. In the middle of a cosy, bohemian bedroom, JETHRO lies in a pile of colourful bean bags. He is a frail, gaunt old man, wearing a psychedelic headband and an ethnic woven poncho. He is breathing heavily, barely moving, and clearly near the end of his life.

JEMIMA storms into the room — an uptight, middle-aged woman in office clothing. She is agitated and moves constantly, in contrast to JETHRO’s stillness. She marches over stiffly to JETHRO’s side, and sets down a glass of water, followed by a series of pills.

JEMIMA: Proscalax, Insombulon, Pretline, Damascertam. Take two of the Damascertam. Oh, Dad, who opened the window? There’s a terrible cold out there.

JETHRO: Jem…

JEMIMA walks away from JETHRO to close the window, which she does with a loud thud.

JEMIMA: Sorry. Now, I brought you some pamphlets about the in-patient program they’ve got. I know you don’t like the hospitals, but some of the equipment they have is just so large that there’s no home treatment equivalent, so it’s really the only option.

She rummages in her handbag, fishing out a few pieces of paper and shoving them into JETHRO’s hand.

JEMIMA: Now, I’ve found you a nice assisted living apartment. It’s much closer to the hospital, but of course it’s smaller. So I’ve got a storage unit for you, and we can work to organise your books and records into what you want to keep and what you want to put away. Although, Dad, are you really still reading a lot of these books?

She has moved to the bookcase now, flicking through the spines. JETHRO chuckles quietly as he tosses the pamphlets aside.

JEMIMA: We can sort it out. I also spoke with Marie, so one of us will be able to come by and visit you every day. If I get in early, I can sneak out in the afternoons, and I might need to take a few phone calls in front of you but I’m sure you won’t mind.

She moves over towards the bed, tsk-tsking as she picks up an old handwoven throw.

JEMIMA: Dad! Why are you hanging onto this dirty rag? This thing’s been around since the 60s.

JETHRO: You know, Jemima, I’ve been around since the 60s too.

JEMIMA: And you’re not in much better shape, you know.

For the first time since she entered the room, they look each other in the eyes. She’s full of worry, but he smiles peacefully.

JETHRO: Jemima, what have I always told you? You really oughta…

JEMIMA: …loosen up, yeah, I know Dad, but does this really seem like a loose situation to you? I mean, is cancer “loose”? Is illness “groovy”? Look how frail you are, is that… is that…

JETHRO: “Hip”?

JEMIMA: No, it’s not hip. I know you think I worry, but I mean, for God’s sake, this is the time to worry. You’re weak, you’re tired, you’re -

JETHRO: I’m fine.

He smiles at her. He is at peace with his mortality, and this unnerves her. She holds his gaze, on the verge of tears, before busying herself with another task — the pills.

JEMIMA: You haven’t taken your pills yet. I know, there’s a lot. It’s okay, I can help.

JETHRO: Jem, I’m not taking those pills.

JEMIMA: Don’t be silly, these things cost like fifty bucks and -

JETHRO: Jem. I can feel it. It’s my time.

JEMIMA: You sound really bad. I’d better get the doctor again, he can give you a shot…

She turns to leave the room but he stops her with a word.

JETHRO: Stay with me, Jem. Say good bye, before I sleep the big sleep.

Slowly, reluctantly, she turns back, tears in her eyes. She sits down and holds his hand. As he talks, JETHRO slips further and further away.

JETHRO: My darling. You and I were always so different. And we still loved each other. There’s real beauty in that.

He lays down further into the cushions. JEMIMA, in tears, leans forward to listen.

JETHRO: I want you to… You can be anything you want to be. So please. Be kind. For me.

His eyes close and he relaxes back. He is breathing so softly and slowly that it’s imperceptible, until he slips away. JEMIMA sobs, her head on his chest.

END SCENE

    Matt Nielson

    Written by

    Big words guy, I mean, HUGE. Hire me: mattjnielson at gmail dot com